The Chemicals Between Us
by Reddwarfer
Summary: AU: Tezuka never was once tempted by any student as long as he'd been teaching college, and then he meets a student he can't resist. Complete  TezukaFuji


Title: Chemicals Between Us.  
Rating: Mature  
Pairing: Tezuka/Fuji  
Warning: AU  
Disclaimer: The owners of PoT own PoT. Title stolen from Bush because it's the song that was on when I finished writing.  
A/N: **evaporate** prompted me to write zukafuji student/teacher kink fic. With smut. Um. I complied. I realise that I'm hopelessly romantic about this pairing.

A/N2: Um. All of the college related subjects and class assignments I've actually completed.

Tezuka took one last glance over his office as he readied himself for his first class of the semester. He never used to buy into superstition, but he'd learnt quickly that the tone of the whole semester was set by how the first class went. Unfortunately, he managed having one his more difficult courses at eight in the morning, and that usually meant that he'd have at least half of the class drop within a week, and only a quarter of what remained passing in the end.

Two girls passed him in the hall and giggled at him, and he wished he had the power to assign detention, but that wasn't allowed at the college level, unfortunately. For whatever reason, a certain segment of the student population found him attractive. It wasn't that he really cared how they saw him so much as he didn't like the fact that they thought he was a viable target of their lust. No matter how short the skirt, or skimpy the top, he was simply not going to throw away his morals, and his career, for a little slap and tickle with a half-wit.

Every year at least one person thought they could bribe their way to a passing grade in his class, and every year he'd reported each of those said students to the Dean. The truth was that he'd never had been tempted in the least. Nothing about any of the students he'd ever taught was especially attractive. He was more concerned with their falling GPA than their rising hemlines.

Tezuka stepped in front of Room 604 and paused to double check to make sure it was the right one. He was lucky this year; it was only a short distance from his office, unlike last year when he actually had to go to a different building altogether. He closed the door behind him after he'd entered, and locked it. It was his rule to not let in late stragglers, no matter the excuse.

"Hello, my name is Tezuka Kunimitsu, and I will be teaching this course in Historiography this semester. This is an upper level course, and I expect each of you to perform accordingly. I don't suffer failing students. I do expect course work to be turned in on time, and I expect it to be done correctly. Reading is mandatory, as is class participation. There will also be a semester long project that each of you will be working on, turning it in at the end of this class. Failure to do so will result in a zero for the class."

He looked out at the sea of faces to make sure people understood what he'd said. Inevitably, a student or four would think he was exaggerating. He loved disabusing them of this notion. There were five students with petrified expressions, three looked bored, and seven were looking through the course schedule. At least ten people would be leaving today. A majority of the class stared blankly back at him. There was another boy sitting towards the back of the room, looking idly out of the window. He felt irritated at being ignored, and quickly strode to the desk of the offending student.

Tapping on the desk, Tezuka waited for the boy to face him. When he did, he felt a small chill go through his body. The boy was smiling at him. There was nothing so special about it, except that it was.

"Name?" he asked rather shortly to cover his discomfort.

The boy looked up at him then, still smiling, and replied in a soft voice. "Fuji Syusuke, Professor."

Feeling not just a little unsettled, Tezuka simply nodded, turned back to the front of the class, and began to teach. He resolutely ignored Fuji's corner of the classroom, focusing instead on making the petrified students even more so.

"Please leave with me the contact information you are willing to share with the class. I will have a printout for next time. Make sure if you are absent that you get another class member to give you the notes and assignment because I will not."

He sat on the corner of his desk, collecting the papers from each student. He noted in his head that six had pointedly passed by without handing in anything. Typical. After the last student left, he began to gather his things to leave when he heard someone else approach the desk. He looked up and saw Fuji standing there with a look he couldn't quite interpret.

"Here's my contact information," Fuji said handing him a torn piece of notebook paper. Tezuka placed it with the others, but couldn't manage to get his voice to work to say something in return. Handing him another smaller piece of paper, Fuji added with a small smile, "And this is for you."

Fuji walked toward the door, and he stared after him. _This_, Tezuka thought to himself, _was definitely not good_.

He waited another two minutes before leaving the classroom himself. Before he walked into the hallway, he spoke aloud to the empty classroom. "I can handle this."

When he returned to his office during lunch, he pulled out the small paper that had a number different than that on the contact list, and stared at it before deciding to throw it away. Which was exactly what he should do. Except, his hand never made it near the waste bin, and somehow managed to pull open his desk drawer instead.

He went to the next class almost angry. Tezuka didn't appreciate being made to be a fool, and he certainly had been that first day. Fuji wasn't the first student that tried to pull something similar with him. Nothing irritated him more than people that latched on to any supposed weakness and exploited it. It wasn't as if Tezuka wanted to find him attractive, but he wasn't so low that he'd sleep with a student, especially in exchange for good grades, and that was likely exactly what that Fuji expected to happen.

"Today, we're going to discuss Thucydides and Herodotus. Take out your books and notes," he said by way of greeting. The class, he noted, was smaller by half. Fuji was still in his seat by the window, seemingly uninterested in the discussion. Fuji didn't raise his hand once and Tezuka refused to call on him.

Three weeks had passed, and Fuji had only answered two questions. Quite frankly, Tezuka's patience was wearing thin. He wasn't blind to the way Fuji watched him as he taught. He could feel those eyes on him almost continuously. He glared at Fuji, trying to get him to desist, but only encouraged him in the end. The lips, Tezuka noticed, would curl into a smirk, and those eyes would pierce his chest so he couldn't breathe properly. It had to stop. He only had one way he could feasibly accomplish it.

Tezuka didn't normally do this so early in the semester, but he felt that this was a special situation that called for it.

Five minutes before class ended, he instructed the students to put away their books. "For your next class, I want a paper dealing with the question of Eusebius' _History of the Church_ and how it reflects a fundamental change in history."

He wasn't surprised to see most of the hands shoot up. "Suganuma?"

"Professor, how many pages?" the boy asked, trying not to stutter. They were always concerned about pages, and rarely about content.

Tezuka noticed that all the other hands went down as he answered. "As many as you need."

He was rather fond of the assignment, in actuality. It gave him insight into the makeup of the class. Tezuka usually could tell which students put effort into the class, which ones didn't, and who was most likely to plagiarise things off of the Internet.

When he collected the assignments, he cheered when he noticed that unlike the rest of the class, Fuji's paper was just that, one paper. Other papers ranged from three to fifteen pages long. If he were lucky, it'd be sub-par enough for him to legitimately remove Fuji from the class. He liked to walk around the room when he taught, and more often than he'd like to admit, he was forced to remain seated during a lecture.

Later that evening, Tezuka sat in his office, grading the papers he'd collected earlier. Some were quite well done; others made him question why he had wanted to teach. It was very much business as usual. He placed the papers away and picked up Fuji's as well as the Drop form, knowing that he'd use it.

Ten minutes later, Tezuka placed his forehead on his desk and groaned. Life. Wasn't. Fair. He was in _trouble._. He managed to shame every one of his classmates by writing near perfection in a fraction of the words his other classmates had done. Fuji wasn't just smart, Tezuka thought with a defeated sigh, he was brilliant. And, despite himself, Tezuka wanted Fuji even more than he had before.

The phone was ringing before Tezuka even realised that he'd dialed the number on that paper Fuji gave to him on the first day. He shoved the wrinkled scrap back into his desk, but couldn't make himself hang up the phone.

Fuji answered on the third ring. "Hello?"

"I'd like to discuss your paper," Tezuka said quickly, feeling the need to legitimize the call.

"Now?" Fuji asked, clearly not believing a word of it, but playing along anyhow.

Tezuka knew that he should say no. He _knew_ he should. "Yes."

"See you soon," Fuji replied, hanging up after.

Tezuka pinched the bridge of his nose. What was he doing? What was he _thinking_? He straightened up in his chair, and decided that when Fuji got there, he'd just explain that he had meant to discuss it over the phone, and Fuji had misunderstood. He'd send Fuji home and Tezuka would go to his, and tomorrow he'd put some saltpeter in his morning coffee.

Fuji arrived minutes later, and Tezuka only looked at him briefly before finding his bookcase _extremely_ interesting.

"Sorry, I'm late." Fuji said, not sounding sorry in the least. Tezuka didn't care if he had been, at that point, instead wishing that Fuji made use of more than three buttons on his shirt. He did not need to be confronted with the fact that Fuji was clearly athletic as well.

"You can sit," Tezuka began, but stopped when he noticed that the chair was filled with books. He hated when his fellow professors borrowed from him, because they never put things away.

"It's okay," Fuji said, a tad too agreeably, "I'll just sit here." And he perched himself on Tezuka's desk, only mere centimetres away from him. Fuji smiled at him, and he resolutely tried not to notice anything beyond the paper in his hands.

Tezuka pushed the paper to the middle of his desk. "Your assessment of Eusebius' use of Josephus is quite brilliant."

He regretted the compliment as soon as he gave it because Fuji actually _smiled_. Tezuka knew in that moment that he had lost. Utterly.

"Thank you, Professor." Fuji placed his hand on the paper, letting his fingers brush against Tezuka's as he did. "I find the topic _fascinating_.

Doubting very much that Fuji was referring to anything he'd ever taught in class, Tezuka looked up at him. "Do you prefer the written or the oral tradition?"

Fuji studied him for a moment before he realised just how much his words could have been misread. "I prefer the oral tradition."

Not wanting Fuji to win that round, Tezuka countered, "Why?"

Conceding that point, Fuji nodded at him in deference, but explained anyway. He was partway through explaining the affects of oral tradition on the French culture when Tezuka noticed that Fuji was moving closer to him. Or he was moving closer to Fuji. Or maybe it was both, he wasn't exactly sure, but he didn't care because Fuji's lips were nearly touching his, and he didn't care for the space between them anymore. Then Fuji stopped talking, but it was acceptable to Tezuka because they were kissing instead.

He wrapped his arms around Fuji, pulling him closer, and the only thought that went through his head was _finally_. Fuji shifted on the desk, moving till he could wrap his leg around Tezuka's waist, preventing his escape. Tezuka thought it an unnecessary worry, but rather enjoyed the way Fuji felt.

Fuji's hair was soft, Tezuka realised, as he ran his fingers through his hair as they continued to kiss. He pulled away only when necessity demanded it. He kissed Fuji's cheek, his neck as he tried to return to normal breathing.

"Fuji," he whispered, not knowing quite what to say. He didn't want to pull away, but he should. It was his _student_. His very _young_ student. Tezuka didn't move, and neither did Fuji.

Reaching up to his shirt, Fuji began to undo the buttons. Even though he knew they should stop, Tezuka couldn't do anything but reciprocate, fingers fumbling with the four buttons that Fuji bothered to use. "Professor."

Fuji looked at him then, eyes flashing with lust, as he got off of the desk. He leaned back against it as he tossed his shirt to the floor. Tezuka just watched him, shirt half undone, tied loosened, and stood there as Fuji unbuckled his belt, undid his trousers, and let them fall to his feet. He turned, facing the desk, and bent over till he could grip the other side of it.

Mouth almost dry, Tezuka stared unabashedly at Fuji's form, his back, his _arse_, and hastily undid his own belt and trousers. He opened the side drawer of his desk, and pulled out his hand lotion. It wasn't perfect, but it was better than nothing. He set it to the side for the moment, and instead focused on the beauty that was Fuji's skin. Tezuka kissed Fuji's shoulders, the path of his spine, the curve his arse. He could hear every little hitch of Fuji's breath as he touched him, stroked him, kissed him until he couldn't wait anymore.

Tezuka squeezed a large amount of lotion into his hand, and then he leaned over Fuji, pressing his chest against Fuji's back as he twisted his fingers inside of him. He could see Fuji's mouth open, eyes closed and Tezuka did it again, watching as Fuji bit his lip to prevent any noise from escaping his lips.

He quickly slicked himself before replacing his fingers with his cock. Fuji wasted no time in pressing back against him, and Tezuka barely stopped himself from coming at once. Taking a deep breath, Tezuka stilled for a moment before thrusting hard. Fuji didn't bother to stop the moan that poured from his lips in response. He laced his fingers with Fuji, pressing his hands down on the desk and thrust again. Fuji threw his head back, moaning again. And Tezuka felt his control slipping even further.

Fuji turned his head, capturing Tezuka's lips in an awkward, messy kiss, Tezuka pounding into him as Fuji pushed back against him, meeting his every movement. He bit up and down Fuji's neck, his shoulders, and his nape, Fuji's tasted inundating his senses until there was nothing else.

The desk lamp crashed to the floor, and he didn't care, barely noticing anything beyond Fuji's body, and the way he clenched tightly around his cock, the way the words fell so tantalizingly from his lips, asking him to _fuck him_, _more_, and _harder, professor, harder_.

He reached down to Fuji's cock, stroking him as he bit and licked at Fuji's ear, his neck, until the marks covered any skin within his mouth's reach. Fuji came, arching his back, clenching around Tezuka like a vice.

Stilling, Tezuka waited until Fuji could breath once again, before he sat back in his chair, pulling Fuji with him. Tezuka gripped Fuji's thighs, holding them apart as Fuji rose up and down on his cock, riding him hard despite the awkward position. He reached back with his hands, digging his fingers into the skin as he held onto his hips, causing Tezuka to come, despite never wanting it ever to end.

Fuji only stood for a moment to turn to face him before crawling back to sit on his lap. He didn't bother to survey the complete mess his office had now become, and instead let Fuji rest his forehead against his shoulder as they both avoided the consequences of what they'd just done.

After a few moments, Fuji laughed a little as he said, "I've never needed help in school."

"I know," Tezuka replied, taking the statement for what it was. He held Fuji a little closer, despite the messiness between them and sighed a little. This was complicated. "It's getting late."

Before he could continue, he felt Fuji tense before he tried to get off Tezuka's lap.

"It's getting late, but I live close by," Tezuka clarified. He was being a complete and utter fool, and this was likely the stupidest thing he'd ever done in his life, but he didn't think he wanted to know what Fuji looked like when hurt.

Fuji smiled at him shyly despite everything they'd done as he walked towards his home after they'd left his office. When he unlocked his front door, stepping back to let Fuji inside first, he knew that there really wasn't much else stupider that he _could_ do.

However, when he woke the next morning, and watched as Fuji slept, he couldn't muster even the slightest bit of regret.


End file.
